Tornado
by Emily Hill
Summary: How can you be a father if you're lying in a bed and can't do anything to comfort your children?
1. Chapter 1

A/N Okay, this oneshot is something I just _had_ to write. The idea crept into my mind and wouldn't let go. I hope you like it! I still don't have an awful lot of time and this fic was written inbetween my job, taking care of my husband (who's doing much better, fortunately) and housekeeping, so forgive any shocking mistakes - this chapter was written on a caffeine high.

Tornado

Today is a Saturday. I don't know how long I've been lying here already. I have no choice but to wait for someone to drop that it's "so terrible", "how long now? Three weeks, yeah? Wow." Something like that.  
My kids tell 'Uncle Steve' everything they did at school this week. And the neighbor gave them some soup, which they can eat tonight. Or maybe now, maybe they have a microwave on the ward?  
I already know the answer, but it's locked up in me.

I hear Charlie's excited voice as he talks about something weird his teacher said. Steve tells him that he should be quiet, for the sick people. Charlie! It must be about time for his medication. Did they even bring it? And would they remember?  
The quiet voice of Steve gently points out to Charlie that he should take his pills. Grace went to ask whether there is a microwave. Not for visitors. I feel like I'm indispensable needed and incredibly unnecessary at the same time.

Since that devastating day I am the lonely core of a dizzying storm. The pieces of wreckage of what once was my life, are circling around me like a tornado.  
No one can reach one another truly anymore, because of the force of the wind that's chasing them. They come closer together, collide and then drive back the other way. And in all of that, I'm the unreachable center.  
I hear and feel them talking and occasionally fighting around my bed, taste their grief - sometimes literally, when their tears fall on my lips - but I'm not there, not really.  
I watch helplessly how it gradually breaks them up. If I could lift my eyelids, at least. The only thing I really see are the spots dancing on my eyelids.

I am reminded of the question that Grace came home with, a few weeks before that fateful day. "Does a falling tree make a noise when there is no one around to hear it?" I had laughed at that and said that there were plenty of more meaningful things to let my thoughts go over, and as a result my daughter had demonstratively shut her mouth for the rest of the meal.  
Then she bawled at me that I could at least think about something that was important to her – she had to write an assignment for school about it after all – and that lately my only concern was her brothers illness. That same little brother had called her an annoying teenager after her angry stream of words, and I had left it that way.

Now I wonder why I couldn't muster to give my little girl attention, and her question is the center of my pain. What are my thoughts worth, my feelings, the things that I know and believe... what are they worth when they're not perceived by anyone? No one sees the love I feel for my children and my friends, no one can hear my advice. In what way is my existence still relevant?

I feel a warm tear on my cheek. It slowly tickles into my ear. "He's crying!" Charlie exclaims. Two, three chairs shift quickly. "Danny, Danny," the warm breath of Steve blows in my face. "Can you hear me, Danno?" Yes, yes! I can hear you, I can sense you! But I just lie there, while my tears continue to flow and mingle with his.  
I never felt closer to him than at this moment. But the moment passes without me being able to tell him. I think I feel Steve's hand wiping away my last tears and I am so moved by his gentleness that a new stream starts.  
The nurse is called and later a doctor. They hum assenting noises. "Hmmm, hmmm." The doctor coughs and asks Steve to walk with him into the hallway. Doesn't he realize that I might want to hear what he's got to say? Or maybe he walks away out of mercy. Maybe he's going to say that I will be a vegetable from now on.

My children stay behind. It's silent, a heavy silence. I feel the cautious hope of my children, but on the other hand I feel their fear. Suddenly, Charlie begins to cry, and I hear Grace getting up and walking towards him. "Hush, it's okay," she says soothingly, but I hear a sob in her voice.  
Steve returns. He tries to explain to my children what the doctor told him. It's probably not a 'real' coma as was thought until now, It's highly likely I can feel and hear them.

I feel like a drowning man who, after desperately trying to get attention for a very long time, is finally being noticed. Steve clears his throat. He sounds oddly formal. "Danno, the doctor says you might be able to hear us."  
A silence follows. A silence in which I should have responded. The disappointment washes over me like a wave. My children take turns saying how much they love me, but they seem to feel a bit uncomfortable with the others there.

When Steve leaves to bring Charlie home, Grace stays with me and sits quietly next to my bed. I can feel that she's close, her hands briefly touched mine just now.  
I can imagine that she has no idea how to deal with this further lifeless body, while she knows that I can hear and feel her.  
To my surprise, she takes my hand and puts her head on the bed next to our intertwined hands. Lately she'd been growing up, and she'd been a little distant. Especially after her fallout.  
I try to imagine as realistically as possible that I give my daughter a loving smile and squeeze her hand.

"Dad ..." I hear a soft squeaky sound coming from her throat. "I need you!" Drops fall on my hand. She lifts her head and her voice is not muted by the duvet anymore. "Please, Danno!"  
She sees my tears once again, and I can hear a dam break. A wave of questions, doubts and fears flows into the room. About school, her friends, her boyfriend. How she needs him, she couldn't be without his love, advice and support.

A silence falls. I listen to the despair that reverberates in it, and suddenly realize how little I've always done that, really listen, and how big of a mistake that has been. I always had an answer ready.  
Those answers did not always help. I remembered the last conversation we'd had. We hadn't understood each other and we'd just stopped talking - all because I hadn't listened.  
Maybe that's the answer to the question that struck me today. Maybe I have misunderstood it my whole life. Always knowing the answer is not what makes you a good father. Of course, I often also just listened, but I'd had my answer ready too often.

Perhaps, my listening is far more important than my opinion. And despite everything I have to hand in, the fear of what is to come, the terrifying idea that I might never be able to make the slightest movement, this thought gives me comfort.  
Grace squeezes my hand and says softly, "Pfff ... sorry, Danno. Thank you." My main job I can now perform as never before. We are silent together for a long time.

The end


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** Okay, so my husband always says I can be a bit of a pushover (although he also knows how stubborn I can be ;) ).  
Maybe this proves him right, but I really enjoyed writing this second chapter. I hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long...  
This was written fairly quickly and although I did check it for typos etc., it's very likely I missed some mistakes...

Enjoy!

Steve heaved a deep sigh. He'd just returned to the hospital after dropping Charlie off at Rachel's. He leaned back in the driver's seat and closed his eyes for a minute. He suddenly remembered something his mom used to say to him. ''Close your eyes, and you will see clearly."

Well, he didn't exactly see clearly at the moment. He sighed again. He longed for peace, but he knew that he wouldn't get any. Not while Danny was laying in the ICU, still unresponsive.

There had been a moment in his life where he'd decided that love had caused him enough pain, so he'd simply accepted all the bad things that had happened to him and just stopped hoping. He'd found that he had to be tough; being sensitive only got you hurt. And then Danny came into his life, and although Danny wasn't exactly the most optimistic person he knew, he'd been the reason for Steve opening his heart again.

And know the normally volatile Danny was lying motionless in a hospital bed, and it was all Steve's fault. If only he'd listened to Danny for once, he wouldn't have to be scared of losing yet another person. Maybe he hadn't lost Danny to death, but there was still a reasonable possibility he'd lose the Danny he knew and loved to irrecoverable brain damage.

 _"So this is your plan? We just enter an abandoned warehouse - and a dilapidated one at that, without any back-up? You don't even know if you can trust that informant, and yet here we are. At least wait for back-up!"_

 _Steve didn't even acknowledge that he'd heard Danny, he simply handed Danny his tac vest._

 _A few minutes later, ducking for cover, he already regretted his decision. Another ten minutes later, kneeling next to his fallen partner, he regretted it even more._

 _He carefully lifted the beam that had fallen on his partners head and wiped away the blood that streamed down his face. "Danny?! Can you hear me?" He checked his partner's pulse and was relieved when he felt a strong, although slightly irregular heartbeat._

 _He checked Danny for further injuries, careful not to move him. He found a few broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder and an arm that was bent in an unnatural angle. What concerned him the most was the fact that Danny hadn't so much as blinked during his examination, which meant his level of consciousness was extremely low._

 _He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called 911, telling them to hurry. After he'd finished the call, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and grabbed Danny's hand._

Steve's thoughts were harshly interrupted by a knock on the car window. He opened his eyes to find a hunched old lady looking at him, evidently worried. "Sir, are you alright?"

He felt more and more like he was drowning in his sorrows, but he plastered on a fake smile. "Yeah, just thinking," he said, grabbing his keys and jumping out of the car. "Are you sure?" she asked, eyeing him from head to toe.

"Yes, thank you for your concern," he said, trying to sound convincing. She probably wouldn't believe him anyway, considering he looked (and maybe also smelled) like a homeless person. He grabbed a bag from the trunk and hurried inside.

When he entered Danny's room, Grace immediately got up. He could see she'd been crying, but right now she seemed pretty pleased. "Uncle Steve! Danno squeezed my hand! I'd been talking to him, and when I stopped talking he squeezed my hand! The doctor said he's probably trying to wake up!"

"That's amazing, Gracie!" he said, enveloping her in a big hug. After he'd released her, she pulled him to the bed. "You should talk to him, try to get him to respond," she said. "I'm going to get something to eat, do you want me to get you something?"

"A sandwich would be great, thanks sweetie," he said, sinking into the uncomfortable chair next to Danny's bed he'd spent so much hours in already.

After Grace had left the room he grabbed Danny's hand. "Hey partner," he said, then fell silent. He didn't really know what to say now that he knew Danny probably heard everything that was being said. "You gave us quite the scare, Danno," he finally said. His hope that Danny would immediately squeeze his hand was unfruitful.

He swallowed and rested his head on the bed next to Danny. He wasn't sure how long he could keep doing this, putting on a brave face for everyone around him. He was pretty sure his team knew. Grace probably knew too, only Charlie was too young to notice.

He didn't know how Danny always did it. No matter what happened, he was always able to reassure his kids that everything would be okay. Considering how much of a merchant of doom Danny normally was, it was pretty impressive.

He was so lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice it at first. When he did feel Danny's gentle squeeze, though, he practically jumped out of his chair.

"Danno?"

TBC?


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Here's the next chapter, enjoy! It's a little short, but I figured a short update is better than no update...

I have to warn you, though, I'm not a medical professional, so I'm sorry for any horrendous mistakes.

* * *

''Danno? Are you awake? Can you open your eyes for me?" Steve stood next to Danny's bed, not really sure what to do.

Danny made an indistinct noise. To Steve it was the best thing he'd heard in the two weeks Danny had been lying in that bed.

"Hey buddy, it's good to see you awake," Steve said, still holding Danny's hand. A few more seconds passed before he felt Danny's grip relax.

He realized Danny was probably exhausted by the short while he'd been awake, but he was still a bit disappointed. He'd hoped for Danny to wake up for so long that when it actually happened it had been a bit anticlimactic.

He contemplated if he'd push the call button, but he figured nobody could really do anything now that Danny was asleep again, so he simply sat down again.

A sudden sound in the doorway startled him. He looked up to see Grace enter the room. She handed him a sandwich and looked at him expectantly.

He took a big bite of the sandwich before telling her what she wanted to know. "He woke up briefly, he squeezed my hand and he even tried to talk."

Grace had a smile from ear to ear on her face. "I knew he could do it. I bet Charlie's visit was the final push he needed."

It had been Grace's idea to bring Charlie for a visit. It had been very difficult to convince Rachel to give her permission, but Grace had simply persevered until she'd gotten her way.

She reminded him so much of her father, who was pretty much the most persistent person Steve had ever met.

Steve finished his sandwich and got up from his chair. "I think I'm going to take a shower, is that okay with you?"

Grace huffed out a laugh. "It's about time, don't you think? Do you have a change of clothes?"

Steve looked at Grace a little surprised. "You probably haven't noticed, but you smell a little," Grace said, her eyes glistening.

"I do not smell, young lady!" he said, unconsciously smelling his armpit. He screwed up his face and admitted, "okay, maybe I smell a little. I'm going to go now, before you insult me even more."

He grabbed the bag he'd brought from home and headed to the staff locker room. Now he understood why one of the nurses had so kindly offered him the use of the showers there.

He had one of his famous quick showers, although he did end up taking a longer shower than he normally did. He quickly toweled himself dry and slipped into a pair of cargo pants and a t-shirt.

* * *

When he entered the room again, Grace looked up from the book she was reading to her dad and smiled at him and said, "hey. You look better."

"I feel better too," he said, grabbing a chair and sitting down. Grace had just started reading again when Danny grunted. His eyes fluttered open and he looked around the room.

"Hey," Steve said, walking over to the bed. Danny grunted again and weakly swatted at the tube coming from his mouth.

"No, no," Steve said, gently grabbing Danny's hand. Grace walked to the other side of the bed and gave her father a soft kiss on his forehead.

Danny's eyes lit up when he saw Grace, and a lonely tear rolled down his cheek. Grace carefully wiped it away and gave him another kiss.

Steve quietly left the room to get a nurse and almost bumped into Danny's doctor on his way out of the room. "He's awake."

Danny's doctor checked the monitors around Danny's bed and moved into his line of sight.

"Welcome back. I'm doctor Harrison," he said, grabbing Danny's hands. "Can you squeeze my hands?"

Danny looked at him a little confused, but did as he was asked. It obviously took a lot out of him, but he managed to squeeze both of the doctor's hands. "Well done," the doctor said, moving to the foot of the bed. He lifted the sheet and asked Danny to move his toes. They all looked at Danny's feet, and after a few seconds he wiggled the toes of his right foot.

"Excellent. Okay, only your right foot now," the doctor said, smiling reassuringly at them. After Danny had wiggled his toes again, the doctor asked him to move his left toes. They stared intently at Danny's left foot, but nothing happened.

TBC

* * *

Reviews are greatly appreciated :)


End file.
